Ash
by Firebowls
Summary: Nothing can truly be wiped clean, so long as someone remembers what was once there. Free from an unusual vassalage, Fennec seeks purpose with the help of Blake, a wandering mercenary. Ignoring the gnarled scar that marks her chest, she tries to nurture new life where none can exist.


_Note: This is a kind of experimental first chapter, so I may or may not commit to it. I'm mostly interested to see if I get any feedback. Otherwise, enjoy!_

* * *

A wet, mossy fog danced with their blades and swirled around them, isolating their fight from the surrounding area. Isaac called out her name as she realized she'd gone too far. Her right foot slipped from the grimy boards. For a moment, she felt the sick drone of the bog settle as she forgot which way was up. Then the water clapped her back and enveloped her, effortlessly slithering into her mouth and down her throat.

Fennec clawed at the water above her and dashed her feet down below, pulling herself up with each wild pulse. As she breached the surface, she reared up and paddled clumsily to a fat pillar, the dirt clumping around it in an island. Fennec threw herself onto the land and forced the swamp up from her throat. A black mess streaked across the mossy dirt. She gagged till she expected to see blood, but when she finished she saw the ground through the same sickly green filter. A low rumble and faint eclectic chirps filled her ears as she steadied herself. Her throat burned and her arms were numb. Fennec pulled her body into a resting position against the pillar and turned to survey the area.

The swamped seemed endless. Wide trees that twisted into the sky peppered its small shores, the furthest patches shrouded in a dense mass of fog. Her eyes scraped the endless mist for any sign of a horizon. To the left was a patch of vision darker than the rest. A wall.

Grabbing at the ornate design in the pillar, Fennec pulled herself to her feet and circled it. A tall dirt wall stretched before her, fading into the distance on one end. As she continued to the opposite end of the pillar, she heard the rumbling more clearly. Not far ahead was a tall oval waterwheel, fixed in the centre to a patchwork of wooden planks and landings up above. In front of it was a much smaller platform, a makeshift ladder tied to one end.

Fennec's eyes wandered back up the wheel to the swaying green fog suspended far above her. As her eyes drifted absently across the floating sea, she heard Isaac's voice rebound against her skull, calling her name as she'd slipped. She saw his mouth snarl in the back of her mind. She'd heard him call out like that a number of times in this life. He'd sounded gruff. Angry. She stared at the shifting green sky. Fennec wondered if the splash from her fall would carry to Isaac's level. She began to walk.

* * *

The air seemed much clearer with the sun down. It always had. Blake sat cross-legged outside the shrine, leaning forward to glean the horizon under distant thunderclouds. Massive stone walls curved through the distance, their edges jagged like his mother's tattered puzzles, and entire sections lost. Neither would be completed as they once were, at least not without a little cheating. Next to the great structures was an even greater one: a wide tree spat its way out of the foggy earth. It was such a long way down, and yet the tree trunk continued to stretch far above the shrine, its branches grasping at the heavens.

Blake let his gaze drift downwards, indulging in the cluttered horizon. He dug his fingers into the dirt underneath him and found it gave way easily. It was soft and pliant even to his own frozen hands, and yet he knew the ground was strong enough to hold him. He frowned and tossed the dirt over the edge absently. Blake knew he wouldn't hear the debris when it hit the ground.

Instead, he heard a light clattering from behind. He whirled to his feet, whipping his sword from his back in one motion. Blake tensed as a girl stepped over the shrine's threshold and onto the grass. He raised his sword to point at her, daring her to come closer. Blake watched as she reached for her empty hilt, and then let her arm fall at her side. He swallowed. "What do you want?"

Her armour was bruised and threatened to crumble any moment. Unarmed, the girl stared back at him, face blank except for her knitted brows. Her sharp eyes bothered him. Blake looked at her other arm, which bore a deep and angry gash. Dark blood crusted over its surface and tinted the surrounding skin a rosy red. The girl's mouth faltered before speaking. "I didn't mean to scare you." Blake frowned. She looked a mess, yet she spoke with subtle confidence. Not quite forceful, but by no means submissive. "I just want to know where I am," she continued.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. Lost _and_ without a weapon? Blake nodded towards the structure behind her. "That's Firelink Shrine," he offered. She waited, expecting more. He lowered his sword and glared at her in silence, willing her to leave him to his thoughts.

The girl gave a small nod. "Thanks," she said, and she retreated back through the shrine. As she left his view, Blake tensed, gripping his sword. Was she some bandit's pity-trap? He skimmed the crumbling stone walls that hinted at the shrine's former structure. There were plenty of hiding spots here. Before he dared make a move, she reappeared in the corner of his vision, settling by the fire a level below him. He watched as she examined the greedy flames, her eyes distant. She really was lost, probably just abandoned the safety of her home and never thought she'd have to prepare. Blake scoffed and let himself fall against the stone ruins.

He turned his head in time to see the sun glimmer over the horizon. It shone desperately through the cracks in the gray clouds, shimmering here and there as it moved. Blake softly realized why he hadn't liked the girl's eyes; she was defenseless, but her eyes looked like stray sparks from the sun. They had a quiet determination to them. Driven, maybe, but clearly without direction. His mind replayed their encounter: how naturally her hand snapped to her hilt; how battered her armour was. Blake pulled himself to his feet.

* * *

Fennec listened as the fire crackled happily, with each snap pounding in her head. She shook herself and stole a glance behind her. The man was gone. She turned back and fumbled at the pouch on her belt. Her hands quivered as she retrieved one of the few things she'd salvaged from her swim in the bog. Fennec squeezed the orb till its beating pace matched her heart. Its black form mooned from the wells between her fingers before bursting. She held her hand over the fire and watched the sickly ink drip onto its flames. She closed her eyes as the fog in her head cleared, her mind pierced by a comforting absence of thoughts. Fennec wondered if the ink dripping from her hand was the humanity she'd used or the draining sewage from a decaying head. She opened her eyes and watched the fire lick it up with pleasure. It didn't care either way.

Fennec started as the man dropped to sit beside her. She was numbly aware of her empty hilt and dry throat as he glanced his way. He studied her before speaking. "Where's your sword?" he asked.

Fennec clenched her fists. She doubted she had much left for him to scavenge. Still, she cleared her throat. "I lost it."

The man looked into the fire thoughtfully. After a moment, he spoke again. "You any good with a knife?" he asked, reaching for his belt. Fennec jumped to her feet, raised her arms for a block, and stopped. The man looked up at her, holding the knife out by the blade. "It's all I got," he shrugged.


End file.
